


Hesperidium

by Bunn1cula



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Blowjobs, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, and i would watch every week with popcorn and a jug of wine, scandalous gossip, the Empire is truly a galactic soap opera, verbal abuse of droids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunn1cula/pseuds/Bunn1cula
Summary: General Veers and Admiral Piett get more than they bargained for when they spend their shore leave together on a ritzy resort moon over Coruscant. Veers can't stand the climate, Piett is acting jealous, and things only get worse when a lascivious Moff and his wife show up with anecdotes and gossip that could threaten their very relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This rather cracky work is the result of a Tumblr prompt requiring that one character calm the anger of the other over a beer bottle, ending with an "I love you."
> 
> Two works by Eisenschrott are referenced in this story: ["Here's to the Damsel That's Merry"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6488722/chapters/14852443) and ["A Look From A.F.A.R."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6680215/chapters/15277447%22). Reading them isn't a strict requirement to follow along with this story, but they're both great so I highly recommend you do anyway.

“Oh, stop complaining.”

“I’m not. It’s just so bloody hot. It’s not a complaint; it’s a fact.” General Veers kicked the bedsheets off of both of them and lay spread-eagled on the bed in their bungalow on Hesperidium.

While Admiral Piett appreciated the view of Veers’ naked body lying supine with his large-bore artillery splayed across his thigh, he hadn’t given permission to be uncloaked himself. He yanked the covers back up and over his shoulder and rolled onto his side towards Veers.

Veers grumbled as Piett’s movement jostled him. “You can’t be cold, Firmus. It’s as hot as a lava eel’s cunt in here.”  
  
“And you would know about that, wouldn’t you,” muttered Piett from where he’d burrowed against Veers’ underarm. He laughed when Veers brought his arm down from where it had rested behind his head and placed him in a playful headlock.

“What was that? I can’t hear you, Firmus. You sound muffled.” Veers only let go when he felt something warm and wet tickle his armpit.

Piett made a face like he’d just licked durasteel polish. “You smell awful, General. Do I need to order you to the ‘fresher?”

Veers reached out to smooth Piett’s thinning, mussed hair. “Not if you come with me… _sir_.” He rolled onto his side to face Piett and propped his head against his hand. “You know, I really do wonder about you being cold all the time. Perhaps you should visit the medbay once we return to _Executor_.”  
  
“Bollocks. There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re the one with the inhuman metabolism.”

Veers fixed him one of those roguish grins that Piett used to find irritating until they began being directed toward him.

“Maybe you need a little more iron in you,” said Veers, rolling over onto him and nipping at his ear. “I can help with that.”

“You and that ridiculous nickname of yours can sod right off.” He pushed Veers away and continued pushing until Veers was on his back. Piett spun around and straddled his waist, hugging his knees tight against Veers’ hips. Veers knew better than to try to buck him off. “Now, you were saying about cunts?”

Veers groaned and slapped a hand over his face. “Not this again.”

“It’s a simple question, really. With a simple answer.”

“I don’t understand this, Firmus. It’s in the past, and it really shouldn’t matter. Anyway, it’s a far smaller number than you may imagine.”

“ _We should be able to tell each other anything_. Isn’t that what you’re always saying? It does work both ways, you know.” Piett took a pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched harder than was perhaps necessary.

Veers grabbed Piett roughly by the hips but didn’t push. His meaty grip slackened after a few seconds. “Firmus, please. Let’s enjoy ourselves. We’ve only got three days’ leave.”

Piett smiled cryptically. “I suppose you’re right. The past is the past. Anyway, I’ve got enough whoring stories for the both of us.” He slid off Veers’ lap and sauntered into the ‘fresher before Veers could formulate a reply.

  
Hesperidium was nothing like they were used to. The resort moon orbiting Coruscant hosted a myriad of retreats that were popular with both dignitaries and well-heeled denizens of the surrounding Core worlds, and was a sought-after holiday spot.

But the moon’s glitzy repute wasn’t what had brought them there; insurgents had attacked a garrison Veers had been inspecting a few years back on Yutusk and he’d led the successful defense. After the enemy had been put down, they’d liberated several captured troopers, including a lieutenant whose grateful father-in-law was a resort owner.

As a form of thanks, Veers had been offered a free VIP stay whenever he could manage it. He never expected to accept the generous offer, but when he offhandedly mentioned it while they were planning a short shore leave, Piett expressed enthusiasm at the idea of tropical weather and exotic distractions.

As much as Piett claimed not to miss hot and dusty Axxila, Veers suspected he’d never fully adjusted to the stale chill of a Star Destroyer.

The resort in question wasn’t one of the larger complexes, but it was easily one of the more exclusive. A driver met them at their shuttle and whisked them away to the grounds in a well-appointed limousine.

Each resort on Hesperidium operated in its own individual sim-environment, and they catered to diverse, though primarily Human, tastes. There were alpine retreats, desert spas, forest aeries, gambling casinos, underwater villages and even bustling cityscapes, perhaps for those who wished to enjoy the excitement of Coruscant’s mid-to-lower levels without any of its associated dangers.

The spot where Veers and Piett were being hosted was tropical. The warm, humid atmosphere slapped Veers in the face like wet synthcanvas when they stepped out of the limo under the biodome. It instantly reminded him of interminable swamp campaigns and the misery of soggy boots and chafed bollocks.

Oh, why hadn’t he rescued a bloody snow-skiing resort owner’s son instead?

But Piett seemed to love it — the heat; the heavy, citrus blossom-perfumed air. Maddeningly, his brow remained dry while Veers sweated like a tart in a Bendu temple. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but he was glad to see Piett more relaxed than usual.

Changing into lighter clothing helped tremendously; the heavy uniforms they’d arrived in were downright suffocating in the humidity, and it was a relief to shed them as soon as they’d entered their bungalow.

Dinner on the sim-beach was quite good; the complimentary chilled bottle of wine the maître d’ brought them was light and refreshing and loosened their mood after that bit of unpleasantness back in the room. Veers was relieved to see Piett crack a smile when he rubbed the back of his calf under the table with a bare foot he slipped out of a loafer.

It felt good to just be together, without the worry of duty and the fear of angering Lord Vader. Being found out was still a danger, but once they’d slipped off the uniforms and donned loose synth-cotton and linen, that worry evaporated like a warm handprint on cool plastisteel.

After a cooling dessert of Dorian passion fruit sherbet, flecked with candied Mandalorian orange succade, they rolled up their trousers and carried their shoes and walked along the pristine sim-seashore until Veers griped about the heat once again. They agreed to a nightcap as the sound of a kasta drum circle in the distance drifted in on a shifting warm breeze.

  
The lounge was plush and elegant, and the distressed Borleian driftwood ceiling beams and whitewashed wall slats made it seem airy yet cozy. The hum of low music and conversation was punctuated every so often by polite laughter and clinking glassware.

Piett went straight for the bar, where a ‘tender droid took his order. Veers followed and plunked himself onto a barstool. He wiped his brow. “Bit stuffy in here.”

“The environmental settings in this lounge have been calibrated for the comfort of our more sensitive guests,” said the droid as it mixed their drinks. “It is precisely fifteen degrees cooler than—”

“Nobody asked you,” said Veers. He ignored Piett’s smirk. “What did you order us?”

“What do you think?”

The ‘tender droid set down two perfectly equal servings of grog, grains of black Chandrilan sugar glittering the surface.

“Oh, Firmus. It’s too bloody hot for this.” They raised their tumblers and each took a drink. Veers forced back a cough as the Ithorian rum seared his esophagus. “I could have just done with an ale.”

Piett gestured at the droid. “What do they call you, ‘tender?”

“I am designated D8-BT, but you may call me Beetee.”

“Fine grog you’ve mixed, Beetee. But next time, a little more rum, yes?”

“I understand, sir.” The droid produced a towel and began methodically wiping down the length of the bar.

Veers took another sip of grog. It was easier not to wince after the second swallow. “I don’t want to get completely borked tonight. I mean to enjoy you later.”

“I’m certain you meant that the other way ’round,” countered Piett, smiling into his glass. “Your loading ramp is the one due for a charge-up, as I recall.”

“How I never tire of your romantic metaphors.”

Loud gasps, followed by a sudden crash, made them turn in their seats to see every head in the lounge uplift. Two men, one young and one old, both in white linen, stumbled out of the adjoining back room and collided with a nearby wall in a fit of riotous laughter. The older man fell backwards onto his arse, spilling the bottle of wine in his hand in the process and staining his pants.

A hand, Veers noticed, with a shiny metallic prosthetic index finger. Oh no…it _couldn’t_ be.

“Come now, Adonais, give me a hand! I mean really, give me your hand — I seem to have lost part of mine! Oh ho ho!”

The young man slapped a hand to his mouth at the joke, and sloppily pulled the old man to his unsteady feet. The old man anchored himself by wrapping one arm around the youth’s lower back and smacking his non-prosthetic-fingered hand onto his hip. And squeezing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Veers whipped his head around and hissed as the two men doddered towards them. “Turn around — turn around now!”

“What’s the matter? Who is that?” Amused, Piett watched the man and the boy stagger to the bar as if the room were a storm-tossed dinghy.

Veers knew they’d made it when the stink of booze-breath and musky cologne assaulted his nose from behind. He kept his head down, facing the other way, hoping against hope the two men would get their drinks and return to the other room.

“Beetee! I say, Beetee, you chrome-arsed bastard! Come here and give us a drink before we die of thirst.” The old man dropped the empty wine bottle onto the bar, where it rolled on its side towards Veers.

The droid rolled up with alacrity and disposed of the bottle before the men took notice of its path. “What may I make for you, Moff Juno?”

“Hillar, damn it! How many bloody times do I have to tell you to call me Hillar, you glorified collection of toilet plumbing.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but using your forename is against my programming. Would you like a glass of Shiraya’s Blood this evening? Or a Tatooine Sunrise?”

“Two Tatooine Sunrises, Beetee. You wonderful old thing.” Juno grinned and slapped the bar, rattling the tacky gold-colored necklaces he wore under a shirt that was open nearly to the navel. Long white chest hair billowed out raunchily from the plunging collar.

Juno turned and noticed Piett for the first time. “Well, hello there! Smashing evening, isn’t it? Just perfect for a drink and a boff — though any night is a good night for a drink and a boff, I always say.”

“A wise saying.” Piett smiled politely and sipped his grog.

Juno’s overgrown eyebrows raised when he noticed Piett’s drink. “Ahhh, a Navy man! I can always tell a fellow blue dick by his choice of tipple.” He craned his neck to peer at the back of Veers’ freshly-barbered head. “And where you find one Navy man, you always find another, if you get my meaning. Aren’t I right, boys?” He squeezed the arse of the young man accompanying him and reached across Piett to slap Veers’ back.

When Veers didn’t respond, Juno only became more insistent. “Shy, are we? Nonsense! Come say hello, my muscle-bound friend!” He dropped his arm from the young man and teetered over to Veers.

There was no point in keeping up the charade. Veers raised his head and sighed as he prepared for the coming onslaught.

Juno’s face contorted into a comical exaggeration of surprise. He threw his hands onto Veers’ shoulders and turned him in the barstool to face him. “Mother of Sithspawn! If it isn’t General Veers, in the flesh! How wonderful it is to see you again after all this time!” Veers grimaced when Juno threw his arms around him and wetly kissed his cheek, far too close to his mouth for comfort.

“My dear boy, let me buy you a drink! And one for your friend, too.” Juno licked his lips expectantly, like an Akk dog under the dinner table. “You are going to introduce me, aren't you?”

Veers looked as if he wanted to disappear. “Of course. Sir, this is Admiral Firmus Piett, of the—”

“Executor, why yes, yes, of course! How wonderful to meet you, dear boy.” He nearly tripped over himself lurching back to Piett to pump his hand up and down. “Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral; fine bit of luck there!”

Piett shared a doubtful glance with Veers and a watery smile with Juno. “Thank you, sir.”

Beetee poured the contents of two bar shakers into two tall glasses, then gave one to Veers and one to Piett. “Compliments of Moff Juno,” said the droid, in the unlikely case they hadn’t heard Juno’s earlier shouted request.

Veers made a face. The half-finished grog was still smoldering in his gut, and now the Tatooine Sunrise would only add fuel to the fire. He took a sip—stars, he hated mescal—and wrinkled his nose.

Piett, on the other hand, downed his cocktail in two gulps. He placed the glass onto the bar and grinned at Juno’s stunned expression. “Thank you, sir. I haven’t had one of those in years. They’re just as I remembered.”

Juno burst into uproarious laughter. “You’re certainly a Navy man after my own loins, Admiral! Beetee, give us another!”

“You’re far too generous, sir,” said Piett.

Veers realized with resignation that Juno wasn’t going anywhere. Piett was acting his usual tolerant self, happy to show that well-practiced face of bland civility to a superior officer. That permissiveness was sure to keep Juno right where he was: at the bar, literally within spitting distance.

Veers sighed as he wiped yet more droplets of saliva from his face while Juno prattled on about some wholly improbable fleet gossip. The young man with him had sometime managed to slip away, the lucky bastard.

When Juno began acting out the sexual scenario he was gossiping about, Veers realized with horror that the old man wasn’t wearing anything under his thin linen slacks. When Juno bent over to imitate the recipient of the act he was describing, Veers could see all the way to Huttspace.

He’d once seen a rathtar eat a man, and not even that compared to the horror of the sight that burned into his retinas at that moment.

This was supposed to have been a relaxing furlough. Now Veers cursed that he’d ever been at that garrison to begin with. If he hadn’t been there and played the hero yet again, they’d never have come to Hesperidium and what had turned out to be Moff fucking Juno’s favorite resort. He grit his teeth and forced down more of his drink.

Piett had two more Tatooine Sunrises at Moff Juno’s insistence before switching back to grog. He still appeared sober to the casual observer, but Veers could tell by how often he was blinking that he was already halfway decked.

Veers considered if the evening would be less painful if he just said sod it, and got blackout drunk. But he didn’t trust what he may say or do to Juno — or anyone, for that matter — in that condition, so he decided it was safer to keep his head about him.

“I want to hear all about that field promotion of yours, Admiral!” boomed Juno. “Tell me, how did you keep a straight face when you watched Ozzel go bug-eyed and drop? I’d have laughed so hard, they’d have had to drag the both of us away!”

For a microsecond, Piett’s eyes went wide, but he composed himself just as quickly. “It was…unexpected, sir.”

“Oh come now, darling. You can tell Daddy Hillar all the gory details. Did Ozzel piss himself?”

“Now, Juno—” Veers started sternly, moving to stand.

Juno screeched with laughter and pushed Veers back onto the barstool. “I see your delightful indignation is as present as ever, General. Worry not, I’m done talking about Ozzel.” He turned to Piett. “You see, Admiral, my wife had a bit of history with that hairy-lipped pubic crab, and I’ve never quite bested my jealousy over it.”

“I understand, sir,” said Piett, taking another deep drink. Veers noticed the nearly-imperceptible tremor of his hand as he lifted the glass.

“Are you married?” asked Juno, poking his spindly prosthetic finger in his drink and stirring. He somehow managed to make the gesture lascivious.

“Only to the Imperial Navy.”

“Good lad. I’ve been married for forty standard years and so far my Winnie has tried to murder me twenty-six times. It’s become a hobby of hers. The navy is a far sweeter mistress, but it’s the making-up afterward that keeps me around. I’ve never met a whore that was better at fucking than my Winnie.” He leaned forward and leered. “Speaking of whores, since you’re so fortunately wifeless, you must have a platinum account with the Relief Auxiliary, yes?”

Veers became alarmed at the mention of the state-sponsored brothel network. He didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit.

“Hardly,” replied Piett. He put his drink down on the bar and crossed his arms. “I’m not a young man anymore, and most of my stories are from long ago and not terribly interesting.”

“Oho, that reminds me! Maximilian, darling, remember when —”

“It’s getting late,” interrupted Veers. He tried to keep the sharp note of panic from his voice but suspected he’d failed. “We should—”

“Nonsense,” said Piett, picking up the inflection and ignoring Veers’ plaintive stare. “You were saying, Governor?”

“I was just reminded of the time General Veers — well, he was still _Major_ Veers then — brought Rear Admiral Jerjerrod and I to his local AFAR house on Corellia. The rear admiral and I were in for inspection, and Max wanted to entertain us afterward. Ever heard this story?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” said Piett, his face a perfectly implacable and polite mask. Veers felt his stomach drop and all the blood drain from his face. _Wanted_ to entertain them? Of all the times for this Huttfucking story to come out…

“Ah! Well, you see, Jerjerrod was desperate for a place to wet his anchor, since his wife—oh, did either of you know Ailsa Jerjerrod? Well, she’s the Baroness Valon these days, but anyway… she was like a fine sculpture…absolutely astonishing to look at, an ass like carbonite, but she’d freeze your cock off if you stuck it in her. Poor lad, no wonder they say he only bonks droids these days.

“Anyway, she wasn’t giving him any business, so he had the idea to go somewhere to dock his shuttle for a bit. I was jolly well happy to chaperone these two young bucks to the, eh…what was it called again, Max? The Golden Rod? No, no, that’s on Dantooine. The…oh, help me out!”

“I don’t recall.”

“Boll-ocks,” Juno laughed, drawing the word out into two. “You told your girl exactly how to get there.”

“Girl?” Piett’s eyes were like two blue hailstones under arched eyebrows.

“He means the driver,” said Veers, starting to sweat. “One of my stormtroopers. Oh, for the love of—”

“Bleeding buggery! It’s on the tip of my…Heart of Gold! Yes, that’s it!” Juno exclaimed, nearly dropping his drink. Veers protected his glass from Juno’s flailing elbow; he may not have wanted to drink it, but he didn’t want to wear it, either.

“Come now, I can hardly believe you’d have forgotten. This story is legendary in the ISB! In fact, someone just mentioned to me not long ago that the Coronet City field office shows every new transfer the holovid of you breaking the admiral’s nose. From six different angles!” Wheezing laughter dissolved into coughing.

If someone told Veers that the moon’s sim-grav had just been shut off, he’d have believed it. The room spun away in a dizzying blur while he watched Juno’s mouth form the words _ISB_ and _holovid_ at quarter-speed.

They’d seen everything. The fucking ISB. Had seen everything. In the brothel.

Panic struck him dumb with his next thought:

Had they seen everything upstairs, too?

It had been many years since that disastrous night, but he was more mortified now than he had been even then. How many people had seen those holovids over the years? How many people had laughed? It was upsetting enough to realize a moment where’d he lost control, one that had been spurred by crushing grief over his wife’s death, had been perverted into entertainment for a bunch of spying pencil-dicks…but the idea of those professional peeping toms watching and sharing his shameful encounter with the whore made him sick.

Brina… _Bree-na_. He still remembered her name, and how it had rolled so exotically off his tongue. And no matter how much he wished he’d forget, he remembered her khaki-colored skin and her beautiful, sad eyes.

He’d never been with a non-Human before.

She’d had a sad story to match those eyes, but any sympathy he’d felt for her had twisted into self-loathing once he’d stupidly criticized her station. She’d called him a hypocrite, and she was damned right. He’d known even as he’d said it that he was being ignorant. But the sting of learning that Jerjerrod had casually told some bloody whore, of all people, about his deepest personal pain and then bought him what amounted to a pity-fuck, had driven him to fury. It was not one of his finest moments.

And now he knew it hadn't even been private. Countless numbers of agents and officers and only the Force knew who else had watched him get tugged to full-staff by a prostitute and then not even have the guts to follow through to the usual conclusion. He was ashamed beyond words.

He remembered how guilty he’d felt when his body had responded to the sensation of strange hands on his cock. Hands that weren’t his wife’s. It hadn’t mattered that she was dead; it still felt like a betrayal.

And Moff Juno had probably watched it all on a holovid. Probably even had his own copy. Veers wanted to vomit.

“I’ve never understood it when two lads fight over a whore,” said Juno. “There were plenty to go round in there, after all! Of course, that one was rather comely — for an alien.”

Piett’s eyebrows shot up again and his lips pursed. Veers’ stomach lurched.

“And she was so damned concerned for you,” continued Juno, “when I told her about your poor wife dying and leaving you brokenhearted, and with a boy to raise all on your own. She nearly drenched Jerjerrod’s uniform with her tears.”

There went the room again, spinning off into the vacuum of space. “That was _you_? You told her I was widowed?”

Juno laughed. “You’re damn right I did. And look at the pussy it got you!”

He’d broken the wrong nose. Stars above, why had the girl said it had been Jerjerrod that gossiped? _Had_ she said it was him, or had he made an assumption? Now he couldn’t remember. Sithspit, what had he done? He realized now how lucky he’d been not to have been thrown in the brig. Navy or no, he could have terminally derailed his career over that mistake.

Damn, after all these years…he actually owed Moff Jerjerrod both a debt and an apology.

Meanwhile, Juno cackled and noisily slurped his cocktail. Veers narrowed his eyes and tried to picture him with a prosthetic nose.

It was a tempting diversion until he glanced back at Piett. He was unreadable, even to Veers. Not good.

“Oh, Max. It’s so good to see you again. So many years have gone by, you know. So many friends we’ve lost along the way.” Juno sighed and stared wistfully into his glass. He hitched back a sob. Oh, for fuck’s sake…

Juno began to blubber.

This was even more intolerable than the lecherous jokes. Veers stood again to try and use the opportunity to convince Piett to leave but was thwarted by a loud, piercing sound from across the lounge.

Oh no. _Oh no…_

A shriek of recognition. “Yoo hoo! Oh, hello, hello, there!”

Veers began sweating in earnest, as if he were under Tatooine’s twin suns. His shirt stuck to his back and drops of wetness tickled trails down his temples to his jaw. He felt like a trapped animal as he watched the woman approach.

“Oh, how delightful to see you again, Major Veers. And I see you are minding my husband for me, thank you. Hillar, you drunk son of a whore, Adonais has been looking for you everywhere. I was about to decide you’d gone out to sea and drowned. Pity I see I’m wrong.”

“Begone, woman! This is men’s talk,” slurred Juno, slurping on his drink.

“If you men only knew what we women tell each other about you, you’d never show your faces in public again. So don’t tell _me_ about ‘men’s talk.’”

“Bloody bitch,” said Juno, “Don’t let those midshipmen wear you out tonight before it’s my turn to give you something to tell your friends about.”

“They already know all about your big talk and no cock, darling.” She turned to Veers. “Anyway, Major, sweetie, how lovely it is to see you again.”

“It’s Major General now, milady,” Veers corrected her.

“General! Well, well…I see the _very_ big bright star of the Empire continues to be on the rise. Bravo! And please, don’t you ‘milady’ me — it’s Winiver, darling. Winiver.”

“The greatest irony of her title is that she’s no lady at all,” cackled Juno.

Lady Juno ignored him and took Veers’ hands in hers. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since your adorable little wife died. I was so terribly sorry to hear of it. She and I became fast friends that night at the soiree, practically sisters. Oh, what a sweet thing she was in that hand-me-down gown. And far less sexually naive than she had me believe at first, though I did teach her a few new things that night.”

Veers jerked his hands from her bony grip. What was she talking about? Taught Eli…what things?

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Maxie. Admit it — your sexual repertoire as a couple expanded considerably not long after that night, didn't it? There’s nothing like a little dirty talk to stoke the conjugal fires. And her handjobs got _much_ better, I’d imagine.”

Juno snorted laughter into his drink. Lady Juno looked pleased with herself.

Piett looked as if he was about to break the cocktail glass in his hand, he was gripping it so tight. Veers felt the aura of an impending migraine.

“Hah hah, but when Wilhuff and I caught them going at it like a couple of teenagers on the balcony, he was the one with the sticky hand,” chortled Juno.

“That wasn’t Wilhuff Tarkin, you imbecile. Wullf Yularen still won’t speak to me after that night and I’ve still no idea quite why. I expect that exorbitant cleaning bill he sent the next day has something to do with it,” sniffed Lady Juno. She handed her cocktail to Veers. “Hillar, order me another drink. This one is foul.”

“Beetee, the bitch says the drink is too much like herself. Get her something else,” said Juno without looking up.

The droid nodded with a mechanical whirr. “With pleasure sir, but what exactly—”

“She’ll have a Dirty Martinet. And I mean filthy, you pile of piss-rusted circuits.” Juno slurped his Tatooine Sunrise, belched sharply, then giggled.

Enough was bloody enough. Veers slid Lady Juno’s glass onto the counter and stood up. “As delightful as it has been to see you both, I’m afraid we must leave.”

“Absolutely not,” said Lady Juno. “I won’t hear of it. Sit down, Maximilian, I’m not done with you yet. For one thing, you haven’t yet introduced me to—”

“Stars, woman, are you blind? You don’t recognize Admiral Piett of Death Squadron when you see him sitting right in front of you?” bellowed Juno. “Clueless dune cow.”

Lady Juno’s face lit up like a thermal detonator. “Oh, myyy. Admiral Piett, what an absolute pleasure it is.” She thrust out her hand as if she expected Piett to kiss it.

Piett did not. His mouth smiled tightly but his reddening eyes did not. His knuckles were alarmingly white as he clenched his glass. “Evening.”

“So you’re the little upstart that took Kendal’s position. And _little_ you are, indeed. I’d heard you were rather a shrimp but I see now the gossip was quite accurate.” Pushing her ample breasts just under Piett’s chin, Lady Juno reached between her husband and Piett and took the fresh olive-colored drink Beetee had placed for her on the bar. She swirled the glass in her hand and regarded Piett as a Hutt would a plump frog. “Tell me, Firmus — may I call you Firmus?”

“Admiral is fine.”

“Thank you, Firmus, you see…Kendal—Admiral Ozzel—was a dear, dear friend for many years. We shared so very much together, not in the least a villa on Anaxes for a spell, and I have been so terribly distressed by his simply ghastly demise aboard his very own ship. I have wondered just how such a thing could happen, so now that I have you here, I am so glad to ask you this question in person: did you conspire with this treachery?”

“I’ve no idea what treachery you speak of,” said Piett quietly.

“You know exactly what I speak of. That statement Pradeaux issued about Kendal’s death being the result of a Rebel attack was rubbish. Everyone knows it was that capricious and vile Lord Vader. My poor friend never stood a chance, thanks to the likes of you.”

Piett’s voice rose. “The likes of _me_?”

“Yes, you! I’ve heard all about you and Vader’s encounters in his ‘meditation chamber.’ Please…you couldn’t possibly think your entire staff so daft that they never noticed these activities.”

It was Piett’s turn to have all the blood drain from his face. “Madam, I’ve no idea who in the nine hells you’ve been getting this slanderous poodoo from, but I assure you, it is _steaming_.”

“This is fleet-wide news, dear. And my sources are as unimpeachable as the ISB itself.”

“This is ludicrous!” said Veers. “That chamber is hardly big enough even for Vader, much less two—”

“You’d be surprised,” hiccuped Juno.

“Too small for you, Maxie, but perfectly-sized for a Sith and a shrimp.” Lady Juno sipped her Martinet and smirked her eyes at Piett over the glass.

Piett said nothing, betrayed nothing on his stony face, but Veers knew. He was keenly attuned to the tiny tremors of Piett’s right index finger that warned of an impending seismic event. Even the hardest rock could shift and break, or explode into liquid fire.

“Excuse me,” interrupted the bar droid, “but I’ve been instructed by security to inform Lady Juno that there is a young man asking for her in the ladies’ room.”

“Whore!” slurred Juno.

She ignored him. “Who might this be, I wonder? Droid, do you know?”

“His identification is that of Lieutenant Myrrho from the Imperial Navy. They scanned his prints while he was unconscious.”

Lady Juno’s mouth formed an improbably large O. “Hillar! Did you drug Adonais again?”

“What, woman?” Juno laid his head on the bar. “What did she just say?”

“Stars above, you are the galaxy’s biggest drunken fool! Droid, show me where the poor boy is.” Lady Juno breezed away with her drink in hand, leaving a heavy cloud of perfume and doom behind her and her husband snoring on the bar.

Piett stood, and without meeting Veers’ gaze, turned and left.

_Fuck_. Veers lurched behind the bar, grabbed two bottles of ale, and ran to catch him.

  
Back in the room, the open bottles sat untouched on the dresser, and Piett’s bag was open on the bed. His uniform was out, hanging on the closet door. Piett kicked his shoes off and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Firmus, what are you doing?”

“Going back to the _Ex_.”

Veers stood up and caught Piett’s fingers before they could move to the next button. “Don’t. Please. Not like this.”

“Interesting company you keep. Very charming.” Looking at the floor, he pushed Veers’ hands away and resumed unbuttoning.

“I wouldn’t keep them if you paid me,” said Veers, but the joke met with icy silence. “They’re old acquaintances. Not friends.”

“That’s not how she sounded about your wife.”

Veers shut his eyes and held back a frustrated laugh. “They met her once. At a tedious party on Coruscant.”

“You fucked your wife at a party on Coruscant?”

“N-no, not exactly. We didn’t actually—”

“Forget it.” Piett pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He went to the nightstand and pulled a cigarette from the drawer. He lit it, tossed the lighter onto the nightstand with a loud crack, and sat on the bed with his back to Veers. “I don’t care.”

“The hell you don’t.” He placed himself between Piett and the window. “This is all I’ve been listening to since we got here. I want to know what’s been driving this.”

“What’s driving this is I asked you a question, and you refuse to answer it.”

“Perhaps I don’t like the question, Firmus.”

“It doesn’t matter. You know all about me, about my past. I don’t know a thing about yours.”

“Don’t you, though?”

Piett looked as if he’d just been asked to astrogate from Ilum to Byss without a navcomputer. “How could I, if you won’t tell me?”

“I certainly have.”

The bags under Piett’s red-rimmed eyes were darker and heavier than usual. He looked exhausted. He took a deep drag of the cigarette before putting it out. “Quite right you have.” The smoke seeped from his lips as he spoke. “Stupid me.”

Veers knelt on the ground in front of him but Piett answered this by lying back on the bed and draping his arm over his eyes. Stubborn little bastard.

Despite the shrieking protestations of his knees, he pulled himself up beside Piett on the bed. “Firmus,” he winced, rubbing the knee that wickedly stabbed the deepest, “I am here. With you. By choice.” He was glad Piett couldn’t see him reacting to these pitiful old man aches and pains. They were mortifying enough to suffer through, but acknowledging them was beyond the pale.

He reached out and placed a hand on Piett’s thigh, warm and bony through the light simcotton trousers. He was so much more delicate than he seemed in the thick, rigid synthwool uniform. Sometimes, deep in the middle of the night when there was nothing at all between them but their skin and blood and bones, Veers would hold Piett against his body and think of him as a tiny bird. He couldn’t squeeze too hard, lest he break him; or worse, be bitten and, empty-handed, have to watch him fly away.

Here, too, would require a gentle touch.

“I was married, yes. To a woman I dearly loved, who became the mother of our son. And she…she died. Far too young. And it broke my heart and it broke our son’s heart.”

Piett slid the arm he’d laid over his eyes behind his head and slowly opened his eyes to meet Veers’ gaze.

“All of this is in the past, but in a way it’s still very much here in the present because, yes, I still love her, and I always will. This is a part of me in a very important way, and I can’t change it. And, as painful as it is, I don’t want to.” Piett’s muscles tensed and Veers stroked his leg. “But none of this this defines me, nor does it define us. And yes, I come to you as a man with a past, but no more than you or anyone else. I can’t change it and I won’t pretend it didn’t happen. It’s made me who I am, which is a man that has chosen to devote himself to you. _All_ of you, Firmus… and if you want me too, it can only be all of me.”

Piett’s thin mouth cracked into a smile. “I’d no idea a dirt pounder like you could be so eloquent.”

“I’m surprised a vac-head like you even knows the difference.”

They laughed and Piett held out his arm. “Come here.”

Veers crawled on the bed to meet him face-to-face, and gently laid his body atop Piett’s. Scrawny as he was, Piett could easily withstand all eighty-two kilograms of Veers’ weight, and though he often liked to complain about it, there were no words of protest now.

Veers kissed his chin, his jaw, then brushed his lips down to his throat. Piett closed his eyes and obediently tilted his head back onto the bed. Gliding his tongue over the prominence, Veers tasted a salty veil of sweat—he knew it was hot in this damned room—and kissed his way to Piett’s shoulder.

He trailed his tongue down to one nipple, then the other, and slid a hand between Piett’s legs where he traced his fingers around the tumescent bulge. Piett arched his back and ran his fingers through Veers’ hair, exhaling forcefully from his nostrils.

Kissing the hardening length through the thin fabric, Veers undid the button above and opened Piett’s trousers enough to reveal the tent Piett was erecting in his pants. Veers reached under the waistband and freed the growing cock, hot and velvety in his hand.

As he tenderly stroked the shaft, a pearled bead of precum oozed from Piett’s tip and Veers licked it away slowly, so slowly…drawing it into a silken thread between his tongue and Piett’s cock as he shifted himself up to kiss Piett’s lips.

His tongue slid against Piett’s and he tasted a sharp tang of alcohol mixed with the leftover cloying sweetness of those horrid Tatooine Sunsets, but none of that mattered now…through all of those other things, Piett still tasted reassuringly familiar. Warm and soft and safe as home.

“You’re well off target, General,” grunted Piett and he pushed Veers’ shoulders back down into his previous position.

“Sorry, Admiral. Allow me to recalibrate.” Veers took the tip of Piett’s cock into his mouth and fluttered his tongue all around. He could sense Piett’s stare boring into him even with his eyes closed. A soft moan from further up the bed seemed to confirm his sense of this; Piett could never resist watching Veers suck his cock. To further tease him, Veers painted his lips with the tip, tonguing the opening. He was rewarded with a longer, louder moan this time.

Veers gathered himself onto his elbows and took Piett in completely, closing his lips around the shaft tightly and, it occurred to him, protectively. Pushing his tongue against the bottom length of Piett’s fully hard cock, Veers pulled back and applied just enough suction to make Piett cry out.

That was the only cue he needed. He grabbed the base of Piett’s cock and ran his hand up and down the bottom half of the shaft while his lips and tongue went to work above. The blood rushed to his face as he sucked, and the room was soon noisy with wet sounds and grunts.

“Damn you, Max…damn you and that mouth of yours.” Piett growled. His eyes were wide, feral, and with he pushed Veers up by the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Turn over. Turn over now.”

As quickly as he could, Veers stripped off his clothes and did as he was told.

  
Afterwards, with Piett curled against him and a glow in his heart, Veers sipped from one of the bottles of ale and smiled. The trip so far had been disastrous, but this moment made up for all of it. Piett was quiet and peaceful and seemed happy for the first time since they'd arrived.

“I’ll be glad to be back on board tomorrow. This place is nice, but it’s not home,” said Veers. “I don’t sleep very well in other beds.”

“I do have a nice bed, don’t I?” Piett mumbled sleepily. “One small compensation for the job.”

Still smiling, Veers kissed Piett’s forehead, rousing him. “Do you still want to know?”

Piett stretched a little, shifting his leg tighter around Veers’ hips. “Know what?”

“About me. My past.”

Piett opened his eyes. “No—no, Max. I’m sorry, I should never—”

“It’s okay. I’ll tell you.”

“Please, no, I was being foolish—”

“One.”

Piett craned his neck to face Veers and blinked. “What?”

“One. Before you.”

“You don’t have to lie about this for my benefit. I’m a grown man, I can…” Piett’s words trailed off as he regarded Veers’ solemn expression. “Hutt’s bollocks, you’re telling the truth?”

“I told you it wasn’t as many as you imagined.”

“In forty-eight years, you’ve only been with _two_ people?”

Veers laughed. “I mean, I’ve tickled my share of tookas, and had a few more than that go bobbing for my bananafruit, as it were, but as far as…well, you know…the rest…yes, two.”

“Stars above.”

“Eli and I were very young when we married. After she died, it took me a very long time to even consider the idea of anyone else. Even for sport.”

“But…the whore? On Corellia?”

“Didn’t get very far. It’s…a long story.”

“I can’t believe it, you were practically a virgin when you came to me. And look at what I’ve done with you.”

“What you've done,” said Veers, putting the bottle on the dresser and rolling over to face Piett, “is make what was once a sad old man very happy.”

Piett’s eyes trembled and he broke into the biggest smile Veers had ever seen on him. It was a smile of ecstatic joy, tenderness, relief, and if Veers didn’t know any better, _love_.

Piett’s mouth opened to say something, but before he could get out the words, Veers pressed his lips to Piett’s in a long, insistent kiss. Piett pulled back and tried to speak again but Veers shushed him. “Don’t say anything else. Just kiss me.”

And in the soft simulated moonlight coming from the window, Piett did.


End file.
